Muggle Studies
by Kimi kara tegami
Summary: Sirius is hungry. Remus is busy. Some unexpected things happen. PostHogwarts MWPP Era. A birthday present for a friend.


For my Hols's birthday over a month ago, my first Harry Potter 'fic besides.

Special thanks to Pers for helping me out with some (hopefully) humorous bits, and special thanks to Taine-twin for getting me started, beta and Brit-picking :)

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"I'm hungry."

Remus glanced up from what he was doing – sifting through the insides of one of those muggle homophones or whatever they were called – and looked appraisingly at Sirius.

"Mmm. Food in the kitchen," was all he said before turning back to the boxy contraption.

"Would you cook for me?"

Remus glared over his shoulder at Sirius. "Why do I always have to be the one that cooks? Fix it yourself."

"Don't wanna cook," Sirius mumbled, rubbing the toes of one foot with the toes of the other and skewing his sock at the same time.

"Probably burn it anyway," muttered Remus distractedly.

"What about carry-out, or something?"

Remus made another 'mmm' noise and thumped the mugglephone with his fist. Hard. And ran his hands through his hair, letting the grey he usually kept hidden peek out.

Sirius let out an unimpressed huff, which sounded suspiciously like, 'What's got your knickers in a twist?' and looked up at the ceiling. He clasped his hands across his chest, blowing a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. "I don't feel like getting up, though," said Sirius. "And the tellymone is over there–"

"Telephone," Remus corrected absently as he bent over the box again.

Giving a frustrated sigh as the piece of hair fell back into his eyes, Sirius eyed his flatmate. "Why don't you just…magic it fixed? Save a lot of trouble."

Muttering something about muggle enthusiasts, Remus crouched down to peer in through the hole he had made by taking out the crank.

"Whatever." Sirius pulled himself to his feet with a groan, making his way to the tellymone – no matter what Remus said, 'telephone' just couldn't be right (conveniently ignoring the fact that Remus's mum was a muggle, of course; nice woman, really, but a bit daft). Sirius had passed Muggle Studies with an Acceptable; he ought to know (also conveniently ignoring that Remus had passed it with an Outstanding).

Plucking the little card for an Indian restaurant off the cork board on the way, Sirius continued murmuring about how he obviously knew enough about muggle devices to live in a muggle flat, thank you very much, and the timid voice of the host sounded confused when he almost pleaded, "Sir? Sir? Can I help you? I don't know what a thorrymeter is, but can I take your order?"

"Ah, yes, you can. Hmm…two orders of – damn, what is it he likes? Hold on a mo," he told the man on the other end of the line, putting his hand over the mouthpiece. "Remus! What kind of–"

He was cut off by a surprised shout from the other room. Instantly forgetting about curry and how hungry he was and, really, how right he was about the names of muggle things, Sirius dropped the receiver and raced back, almost falling over the couch in his haste. He was confused for a moment – a plate seemed to be hovering over Remus's head, and his flatmate was pointing his wand at it, stammering, "R-r-riddikulus!"

_Boggart, then, but…plate – Remus is afraid of dishware?_ Sirius thought bemusedly, looking on in amused concern. He was about to make a remark about doing the dishes more often, but the look on Remus's face stopped him. It took a few more repetitions of the spell for the white circle to cloud over and darken, and then it zoomed into the open phonograham.

Then it dawned on him.

"Full moon, Remus?" he asked quietly, not moving.

Remus looked at him, looking a bit peaky. "Erm…yes," he said, and tried at a shaky smile. They stared at each other for a moment before Remus shrugged, swallowing, and looked away.

"Hello? Hello?" The man from the restaurant was evidently screaming now, trying to get Sirius's attention.

"Chocolate?" asked Sirius, ignoring the dropped receiver. Remus patted his pocket and tried to smile again. "Right. Curry?" When Remus shook his head, Sirius nodded and went back to hang the tellymone back on the hook, saying nothing to the poor, screaming man.

"I…obviously need to practice that," Remus murmured abashedly around a large piece of chocolate as Sirius stepped back into the room.

"I'd say so," said Sirius, half-joking. He tumbled onto the sofa next to Remus, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. After a moment, Remus did the same, and they sat in companionable silence for a few moments. "You know," began Sirius, "what my boggart is?"

"A flea dip?" suggested Remus.

Nudging Remus's toes with is own, Sirius rested his cheek on the werewolf's shoulder. "Arse. No. My mum telling me there's a clause in the bloodline that says I have to go back."

Remus fiddled with the wrapper on the half-finished chocolate bar, sighed as he pressed a small kiss to the top of his head. "I'm quite sure that's not the case," he murmured into Sirius's hair.

"I know," Sirius said, making a grab for the chocolate. "But I'm still hungry."

With a small chuckle, Remus broke off a large piece from the bar and handed it over. "You don't change, Pads."

"I know." More silence. Then, thoughtfully: "You know, I thought your boggart was a plate for a few moments."

"Sirius…"

"I was going to offer to do the dishes from now on, if they scared you so much."

"Sirius." Sharply.

"Yeah?" The summoned man glanced up, mouth half open with the question.

He almost choked on the chocolate Remus shoved into it. "Shut up."


End file.
